


The Blacks-Against-Trump Cruise

by fools_seldom_write



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - US 21st c., Real Person Fiction
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Slow Burn, can you tell i know nothing about america?, please do not expect me to actually finish this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-25 03:29:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21349522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fools_seldom_write/pseuds/fools_seldom_write
Summary: "The president walks into a cruise ship" sounds like the beginning of a joke. Which is very fitting, because this storyisan absolute joke.
Relationships: Donald Trump/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. All Aboard the Cruise Ship

**Author's Note:**

> The fact that this is based on a dream I once had makes it even worse.

You have never heard of any Blacks-Against-Trump-Festival. Maybe that is because you aren’t from around here, because you are from a deep red southern state, Sweet Home Alabama and all that. People everywhere are vocal against Trump, sure, but not like that. Not on this scale.

It is supposed to be a normal sight-seeing tour through the city, but you soon realize that something isn’t normal. The noise is different. On your way to the harbor, you see a young white guy with a red hat being beaten up by two other guys. It doesn’t take you long to guess what the hat says. You try to ignore it and fasten your steps. Bigots, even though they certainly don’t deserve senseless violence, aren’t worth risking your health for.

San Francisco is always a busy city, but as you get closer to the harbor, the roads become a lot more crowded. A sense of fear overcomes you, like this is the first scene of an apocalyptic movie. It’s irrational, you know, so you try to ignore it and carry on with your day as normal. Until you see a beautiful cruise ship in the harbor with black letters naming it “Blacks Against Trump”. Now, that’s weird. It seems to be the focus of attention, you can overhear people talking about it. You blink and step closer, looking for an explanation. It certainly seems like a normal cruise ship, you’ve seen those before, but the name… Is that the property of some anti-Trump billionaire? Most billionaires like Trump, though. And who would spend so much money just to be petty?

You’re so lost in thought you almost run into a woman. She has unclean skin and wears a hijab as well as a smile. Reddened spots on her cheeks distract from her light brown skin.

“Oh, fuck, sorry.” You mumble a little embarrassed. You usually pay more attention to your surroundings.

“Oh, it’s okay.” The woman answers, laughing awkwardly.

You notice a sign on her clothing saying: “Blacks Against Trump”. Apparently, this woman is involved with this cruise ship somehow. Maybe you can get answers that way. The perfect chance. The sign also includes her name, which seems to be Cagla Khawaja. You spontaneously decide to avoid saying her name, since you can’t even begin to pronounce it properly. Oof.

“Uhm…” You say. “Are you part of this _Blacks Against Trump_ thing by any chance?”

You can see her eyes light up as she hears your words. Her smile gets ever so slightly bigger. “To be exact, I am the co-founder.” She replies and the pride in her tone is obvious.

This small Muslim woman doesn’t look rich to you. She wears ordinary clothes and hasn’t gotten her skin fixed. And yet, cruise ships aren’t exactly cheap. Maybe the other founder is the one providing the necessary money?

“Oh well.” You say, trying not to seem too surprised. “Can you tell me what exactly that is?”

You partly expect her to dismiss you and say she hasn’t got time for that, but she doesn’t. She almost seems delighted someone finally asks. “Blacks Against Trump was founded in 2015 and is an organization primarily focused on providing information on why Donald J. Trump is not a good president. We have an annual festival where we collect money for charity and challenge participants to take action against racism and any other bigotry they might see.”

“Hmm.” You take a second to process what you just heard. How come you’ve never noticed this organization? Is it that locally restricted? Probably not the most important question right now. “So, what’s the cruise ship for?”

“That’s the best part.” She lowers her voice as if to tell you a secret. “That’s where the festival takes place. International waters, baby! Anything goes.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” There are still laws overseas, right? Or else everyone would just go there to commit crimes.

“Because it’s not.” The woman chuckles. “But at least it gives you the illusion of freedom.”

You’ve never been on a cruise ship. You didn’t exactly grow up poor, but your family didn’t have enough money to waste on things like that either. That’s why you decided to travel in the first place, because you never really got the chance before. So, naturally, you’re not in a place to judge if this woman is lying to you or not. It makes you want to try it out, though.

“Based on what criteria do you choose the participants?” You ask. Not that you would consider yourself to have much of a chance, since you’re white and the festival is called _Blacks Against Trump_. And one would probably have to sign up for it weeks or more in advance. And money, well…

“Anyone can participate if they’re anti-Trump and a little lucky.” She winks at you.

You raise your eyebrows as an answer. She can’t be serious.

“I’m serious.” She says. “Well, you also have to be free the next week and willing to turn in your phone, but besides that…”

You blink at her, speechless. What are you even considering here? For all you know, this could be one big human trafficking scheme.

“We still have five places left, you know?” She says, and now her hints can’t be ignored anymore. She clearly wants you on that ship. You don’t really know if you should feel flattered or threatened.

“I’m white.” You burst out.

The woman chuckles. “I’m aware.” She states amused. “We don’t discriminate against any race here.”

That makes sense. You don’t have an excuse to get out of this anymore. You have to actually decide whether you want to get on this ship and have a once in a lifetime experience or don’t try anything new out of fear. You know the logical answer. You have let your anxiety control you long enough. You left Alabama to see new and exciting things.

“Okay, yes, sure.” You stammer. You can feel yourself blushing and automatically look down. “But, uh, I’ll have to get my luggage first.”

The woman dismisses you with a wave of her hand. “I’ll have someone pick it up for you, just give me your hotel room and the key. I still have to do a background check before I can approve your request.”

“Background check?” You repeat quietly.

She has already taken your arm and leads you to the cruise ship. It gets bigger the closer you get, and you wonder how many passengers it can hold.

“To weed out the Trump supporters trying to get a cheap vacation.” She explains. There’s a ramp leading into the ship and you follow her inside. It doesn’t look as luxurious as you would’ve expected from a cruise ship, but still nice. The floor consists of blue carpet and at the first opportunity, big white letters reading _Fuck Trump_ decorate the wall. It almost scares you how easy it is to feel comfortable here.

The woman leads you into a rather small room and gestures for you to take a seat behind a wooden table, to which you comply. She sits down at the other side. The door is left open, and there’s a glass of water on the table for you. It’s quite nice for an interrogation room, really.

“Unlock and hand me your phone, please.”

You hesitate. This is worth hundreds of dollars and contains more private information than you can count. But it’s hard to view this little Muslim woman with the red spots on her face as threatening. Now that you’ve come so far, why not? In the case she’s gonna steal it, you know exactly who to report to the police. And even in such a blue state, she probably wouldn’t want to risk a white woman’s word against hers.

You unlock your phone with your right thumb and give it to her. You can’t see what she’s doing as the screen is facing away from you, and so you have no choice but to wait nervously. What would be the best method to find out whether someone is anti-Trump? Twitter, probably. Your tweets about him have died down once the election was over, so now there’s just the occasional retweet to prove your innocence. You hope it’s enough. The woman didn’t say one has to be vocally anti-Trump to participate. Just anti-Trump.

Not long after you finish your train of thought, she hands your phone back over, smiling. It seems you passed the background check.

“Welcome aboard.” The woman says and hands you a key. “Your booth is number 995. Get comfortable there. We’ll leave the harbor at 4 PM.”

You take a quick look at your phone. It’s 2 PM right now. “I can take my luggage myself.” You say. A part of you doesn’t feel completely comfortable with letting strangers into your hotel room and taking your stuff.

The woman shrugs. “Well, sure, but you have to be back punctual at half past 3 PM.”

Your hotel room isn’t far from the harbor. That sounds doable.

A phone rings, and the sudden sound makes you jump. It’s not yours.

The woman takes out her phone and answers. She doesn’t speak English, but she talks quickly and suddenly looks stressed out. Someone must have told her something important. She hangs up just a few seconds later.

“You can’t leave the ship.” She says. The red spots on her face turn redder. “Get into your booth and stay there.” She doesn’t smile anymore.

“What happened?” You ask concerned. This doesn’t sound good. Not at all.

She shakes her head, already getting up. “Nothing that concerns you or this ship. Just a general organization issue, I’ll fix it.” She doesn’t look too certain, but before you can continue to ask, she has already left the room. You can’t really do anything. So, you decide to trust her for now and go to your booth. She surely wouldn’t endanger that many lives at once, so you are probably safe.

Still, the time in your booth passes way to slowly. You actually go on twitter and retweet some anti-Trump tweets you find on your timeline. It does feel good. After approximately an hour, a man knocks on your door and brings you your luggage. You don’t waste time before checking if everything is there. It is. The woman didn’t lie to you concerning that. This is definitely a good sign, and reassures you that this whole thing isn’t such a bad idea. You still can’t help but wonder what that phone call was about, though.

At exactly half past 3 PM, a voice appears in your room. It is coming from a speaker above your door. You jump at it.

“Dear passengers, ladies and gentlemen and those of genders not affiliated with the binary, welcome aboard the _Blacks Against Trump_ cruise ship. My name is Cagla Khawaja and I will be your captain for the next week. As the co-founder of the _Blacks Against Trump_ movement, I’m proud to say that this is our third cruise. After the success of the first two festivals, I hope that this one will be just as successful. As always, any donated money goes to diverse charity campaigns listed on our website, blacksagainsttrump.com. If you wish, you can specify which charity exactly you want your money to go to, an option that is available for the first time this year. Also, as always, you will find a folder in your nightstand with the program for the cruise and a layout of the ship to help you find your way around. Everything, including the programs and the food, will cost you no money whatsoever. It’s an important part of our movement that your support is optional and strictly voluntary.”

There is a small pause. You can hear Cagla clearing her throat.

“Now, this ship will set sea at exactly 4 PM. Just like last year, all passengers must come to the Main Area to turn in their phones and receive some additional information. Only when this has happened, the cruise can begin. You will find the way to the Main Area on the little map in your nightstand. Please don’t be late.”

The speaker turns off and leaves an uncomfortable silence. Quickly, you open the top drawer, and indeed find a little booklet. On the back, a map of the ship is seen clearly, and it doesn’t take you long to see the Main Area. It’s the largest room, in the front of the ship, and it seems to double as the dining area and a general chill-out area. Not to lose any time, you exit your room, lock the door and make your way to the front of the ship. It’s relatively easy to find, one floor under the deck, almost impossible to miss. A lot of people are there already, sitting in various comfortable looking chairs and chatting quietly, some on their phones. A sudden insecurity washes over you, as you realize that most of these people seem to know at least some of the others, while you on the other hand don’t know anyone. You’re in another state and on a festival you never even heard of before today.

“Heya.”

You turn around just to find yourself face to face with a chubby man in a cheap suit. He has Asian features, but his skin is very light, and his hair seems to wary from almost dark blonde to brown. His smile is pleasant. “Hi.” You answer.

“My name is Tim.” He holds out his hand. “I’m the one who got your luggage.”

You hesitantly shake his hand. His touch is gentle, although a bit sweaty. He searches in his pockets for a few seconds before handing you your key to the hotel room. You take it. “Thanks.”

You two stare at each other awkwardly.

“You didn’t make friends here yet, I assume.” He says finally.

You shake your head. “I don’t really know anyone.”

“Well…” He scratches his nose. “I could introduce you to a few people, if you want.”

“Sure.” You force a smile to conceal your nervousness. This is a good thing. Even if you don’t have any interests in common with other people here, you can still bond over your hatred for Trump. This is what the whole cruise is supposed to be about, after all.

Tim leads you to a group of chairs not far away. On the way, he continues to speak to you. “What is your opinion on Senator Bernard Sanders?”

You need a moment to realize what he’s saying. Bernard? Of course, you knew Bernie isn’t his full name, but Bernard? It’s safe to say that wouldn’t have been your first guess.

“Uhm…” You say. It occurs to you that coming up with some clever lie would probably end equally embarrassing, if not more, than just telling Tim the truth. “I haven’t looked into him too much.” You feel yourself blush. “But I am in favor of his healthcare and college politics.”

“Great.” You have arrived at the seat group. Tim spreads his arms a bit. “These are supporters of Bernard Sanders. I hope you will feel at home here. If not, I’m sure they will redirect you to a group more comfortable for you.” With a teeth-flashing smile, he’s gone.

The Sanders supporters are friendly. Some of them have sparkling wine, and they immediately offer you a chair, asking you all sorts of questions.

“Excuse me.”

A loud voice interrupts your conversation soon enough and you look up. At the front of the Main Area, on a rather improvised looking platform, Cagla has appeared with a microphone in her hand and a smile on her face.

“I don’t mean to bother you, but there are still a few things I need to say before this cruise can begin.”

You notice a light middle eastern sounding accent in her voice that you hadn’t noticed before. The way she stands looks uncomfortable, unnaturally straight. She doesn’t seem as relaxed as she was when you met her at the harbor.

“First of all, there will be a mandatory safety class in half an hour where you will learn how to act in case of an emergency. It’s a standard procedure that has to be taught on any ship with civilians. Nevertheless, I can assure you that an actual emergency will be more than unlikely to happen.

Second of all, if you should have any questions not covered by the folder in your nightstand, you can feel free to address any staff member, who will do their best to help you out. You can identify staff members by their suits. If you are a regular passenger wearing a suit, you may find yourself being asked questions you are not qualified to answer – for these situations, we hand out little signs saying _I AM NOT STAFF_.”

She pauses and the crowd chuckles. One of the Sanders supporters leans over to you. “They did this because there were a lot of complaints the first festival from people being confused with staff members.” He whispers. You have to laugh. Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t own a lot of fancy clothes. You would have expected a cruise ship to have some sort of unspoken dress code, but this one obviously doesn’t.

“Before you ask staff – or passengers in fancy clothes – for help, please check if your problem is covered in the folder already. There is an FAQ included at the end to avoid bothering staff with frequently asked questions.

Now, last of all, I have some bad news. As I already established and as you all know, this is an anti-Trump festival, and Trump supporters are excluded from participating. Unfortunately, someone put this rule to a test today, and rather successfully too. If any of you should feel uncomfortable with how this situation turned out, you are free to leave this ship now, and I promise no one will blame you.”

Cagla goes silent for a moment. Not a single thing is heard from anyone else. It seems like the world has stopped spinning, and everyone is waiting for it to continue.

Then, Donald Trump steps on the platform. “I’m guessing this was my cue?” He asks with a grin on his face.


	2. The President Walks Into a Cruise Ship

With almost 6’3 feet, Donald Trump towers over Cagla, making her seem even smaller than she actually is. Not a single picture or video could have prepared you for this sight. His body just supports the aura of a natural born leader, but the source of that aura is somewhere else. Posture straight, hands in his pockets, confident and yet relaxed. He is a phenomenon for sure, and in this moment, you almost get why people voted for him. Almost.

“It was _not_ your cue.” Cagla seems to be more unfazed than she should be. “But it will work just as well.” She turns back to the crowd. “I guess I don’t have to introduce you to Mister Trump.”

“President Trump.” Trump says casually.

Cagla ignores his comment. Considering she is standing next to one of the most powerful men on earth and this man probably hates her, she’s awfully calm. She has to be a good actress.

“Yo, what the fuck?!” Someone shouts from the back row and laughter fills the room at once, breaking the tension. Whoever made the comment, that is probably the effect they were going for.

Cagla has a rather uncomfortable smile on her face. “A justified question.” She steps forward, not afraid to have her back turned on Trump. A part of you expects him to do something outrageous, as he tends to do, but he just stands there listening, ignoring the hostile looks and whispered insults thrown his way. “Well, a little bit more than an hour ago, I got a call from one of my staff members who was informed Donald Trump was trying to board the ship. As you all know, we have a policy against Trump supporters. As you might have not known, Trump has at least one brain cell more than we expected. Now, it is implied that a policy against Trump supporters is also a policy against the man himself, although the possibility of him being interested in this festival never even crossed my mind, but as he correctly pointed out, the policy technically doesn’t include him. He is not a Trump supporter, he is Trump.”

Silence. Everyone seems interested in what Cagla has to say next. You now know what the call that made her so nervous was about. It is hard to believe she didn’t get a full-on mental breakdown. You probably would have. Now, the president stands several feet away in the same room as you. Even that seems surreal. What would actually standing next to him, being acknowledged by him, talking to him feel like? Certainly, it would cause a much more extreme reaction, and your heart is already pounding like crazy.

“The right to refuse service still exists, but Mister Trump has a billion dollars he can spend on law suits, meanwhile I have staff members who regularly get confused with normal passengers because I decided to give the money intended for their uniforms to Flint, Michigan. One of our most important principles includes using as little money for ourselves as possible – excluding this very expensive cruise ship of course. Still, it’s safe to say we don’t have the money to play some petty court room game with a billionaire.”

You look at the Sanders supporter who told you about the confusion of the first cruise a few minutes ago. “Why do they have this ship in the first place with these kinds of principles?” You ask quietly. Wouldn’t a much less expensive festival on land be just as effective?

“Rumor has it the other founder provided it at the very beginning of the _Blacks Against Trump_ movement.” The man answers.

“Who’s the other founder?” You continue asking.

“No one knows except for Misses Khawaja.” He replies.

Huh. That’s not weird and ominous at all. Your curiosity rises, but it’s unlikely you’d find out when no one else has yet. Besides, whoever it is has a right to remain anonymous, even if you’d rather they didn’t.

“Now that we’re in this unfortunate situation of having Mister Trump at an anti-Trump festival, we will deal with this situation the best we can. He will not be treated any different than other passengers by me or any of the staff members, and I kindly ask you to do the same. Stroking his ego is the last thing we want. Our principles also include not treating people better based on money or position of power, and it’s my intention to stay true to that.”

“Shame.” Trump simply says, eyes bright and mouth formed into a smile. He’s trying to provoke. Of course he is.

Cagla gives him a quick look, then states firmly: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”

Trump tries to stare her down, but she doesn’t give him another look. “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.” He mumbles, and it almost seems like he doesn’t intend for anyone else to hear it. He fails at that. Even his quiet voice is loud enough to fill the room.

You are, to say the least, surprised. Not only has Trump apparently read George Orwell’s Animal Farm, he can also quote it. Cagla was right when she said he has at least one brain cell more than expected. It’s probably more than just one. When it’s always talked about how stupid someone is, it’s easy to exaggerate it in one’s head, you suppose. Maybe you underestimated him. Then again, being able to quote George Orwell isn’t definite proof of intelligence, and it’s not definite proof that he has read Animal Farm either. The internet does exist.

“Good thing we aren’t communist animals.” Cagla gives him a deprecatingly smile.

Trump blinks, his eyes searching the room and stopping at… you. Not you directly, of course, but the Sanders supporters. His eyes rest on the group, with the same deprecatingly smile as Cagla. “No.” He says, looking shortly at the floor and then back at the Sanders group again. “I suppose you aren’t.” The sarcasm, though not in his tone, can’t possibly be missed. He isn’t done provoking yet. Of course he isn’t.

“_We_ aren’t.” Cagla corrects him. “We’re in the same boat. Figuratively and literally.”

Trump squints but doesn’t protest. He seems to be done provoking.

“As I already said.” Cagla continues. “Anyone who feels uncomfortable with how this situation turned out is free to leave. I can understand how you feel, and no one is going to judge you.”

Trump looks at her then the crowd as if he wants to disagree but chose not to. A good decision probably. Cagla already looks frustrated. You wouldn’t mess with her. Trump, on the other hand, would mess with almost anyone.

No one gets up to leave. Everyone is looking, trying to see if someone will go, but no one does. They stay in their seats and wait.

“I also have to say that this is the last chance for you to go. In a few minutes, the cruise will start and there will be no way to get off for a week.”

Trump chuckles. Cagla could have phrased that one better indeed. But no one else shows their amusement.

Silence fills the room until Cagla continues. “Well, I guess no one feels like leaving. That’s okay too. Just remember that while Mister Trump will not get treated better based on his money and position, he will not be treated worse based on his bigotry and corruption either. Blacks Against Trump does not tolerate hate speech and violence, and this goes both ways. I don’t need to clarify that, as I expect no such things from people devoting themselves to take a stand against bigotry and corruption, the reason I say this is so Mister Trump will not throw a hissy fit.”

The room breaks out in laughter once more. Laughing about the situation doesn’t make it much better, but it does make it easier to deal with. The seriousness lies behind you now. The festival begins.

“Now, as soon as everyone has turned in their phone, the cruise will start.”

Thousand people get up at once, the noise of the chairs against the floor gets louder but is interrupted by someone clearing their throat loudly. Thousand people stop their movement at once. Trump has taken away Cagla’s microphone and all eyes are on him immediately. The natural born leader has jumped out again, pulling the entire crowd in, all standing now, but waiting for him to speak instead of following Cagla’s instructions. That was probably part of that ego stroking Cagla wanted to prevent. Well, damn it.

“A few words.” Trump says, completely calm and casual. “I just need a minute, then you can go back to schedule. Sorry for interrupting.” He does not sound sorry in the least. He isn’t even trying. Being unapologetic about this is a conscious choice he made.

“As you all know, I am President Donald J. Trump. I am, though trying to be humble, the most powerful person in the world. Give me a red button and I’ll make this ship sink. Now, it’s not my intention to worry you –. “ He pauses for a little laugh. He can’t even take himself seriously, and he has no interest in anyone believing him. What an asshole. “Either way, I don’t know why, but I have a feeling that you don’t like me very much.” Normally you would have laughed but you suddenly don’t feel like it anymore. The realization that you will be spending one week in the same place as this arrogant, bigoted asshole slowly sets in. This is not good. Maybe you should have taken the opportunity to leave the ship, but it’s too late now anyway. “As someone who deeply honors the constitution, including the first amendment, I fully support you and your negative opinion on me. In fact, I appreciate it, which is why I’m here. To know you aren’t liked by people who aren’t very intelligent is to know you are doing something right. Ahoy.”

With a grin, he hands Cagla back her microphone and leaves the platform, heading somewhere you can’t see. Wow. That was… something. Nothing good, but something. Something that leaves you with a feeling of nervousness, bordering on fear, but not quite. You can’t really categorize it. All of this still feels surreal.

“And now that Mister Trump has finished stroking his own ego, we can resume to the normal schedule. I’m gonna need 997 phones up here before the cruise can begin.”

You sit back down. With almost a thousand people, this is gonna take a while. You will wait until most are gone, it’s more comfortable that way. And it gives you more time to think about what just happened.

Donald J. Trump. 45th President of the United States. Several feet away, in the same room. Looking in your direction, looking almost at you. You remember your thoughts when he first appeared. The confident stance, the natural aura of dominance. Even if Cagla said to treat him the same, even if he’s just another passenger who has to follow the same rules… He still is the president. He is wearing a suit, but no one will ever mistake him for staff. Not just because his suit is more expensive than all of the suits of all of the staff members combined. It’s because even when he technically can’t use his power, he still has it, red button and all that, and everyone knows. Everyone knows who he is and what he’s capable of. If the co-founder can’t keep him in check, the others don’t even have to try.

Your thoughts pause for a moment. So, that was the point of his little ego trip speech. That’s the point of him being here in the first place. He doesn’t want fear, he wants respect. He wants to prove a point, assert his dominance. And you almost fell for it. You remember thinking you can almost understand why people voted for him, almost. You sigh quietly. How stupid of you. You would have to be more careful the next few days. A lot more careful.

The crowd has cleared a bit and you step to the platform, where Cagla is counting phones. Silently, you put yours to the others. You don’t like the thought of being trapped in the same place as Donald Trump without a phone. Its main function may be communication and entertainment, but at the same time, it’s a lifeline, something to fall back on in emergencies. Giving this up while feeling something bordering on fear, well… You don’t have that much of a choice.

You remember what Cagla told you before you boarded the ship.

_International waters, baby. Anything goes._

Hah. Now that’s ironic. Trump boarding this ship was probably not what she meant with that.

“So, Donald Trump, huh.” You murmur.

Cagla halts and looks up at you. “I guess so.”

“And that’s what the call was about.” You already know that. It’s not even really a question. But still, Cagla is one of the few people you know on this cruise ship, and the Sanders supporters have all gone already. You need to talk to someone to get your thoughts straight.

Cagla nods silently, then resumes to counting. You shift awkwardly, thinking of something else to say. At the same time, you don’t want to distract her too much. She has a job to do, and you are probably bothering her.

You have already turned around to leave the poor woman alone when you hear someone else approaching from the other exit. You look behind you and… Trump. Your eyes meet for a short second and you freeze, automatically turn around again. Several feet, but he is actually looking at you. Not you included in a group of people he’s looking at, but you individually, as a person. Your heart misses a beat and you swallow hard. This time, it’s definitely fear. You have crossed the border with no going back.

Then the second is over and he continues normally, casually. It doesn’t matter to him, of course. For him, you’re just another woman in the crowd, one of almost a thousand. A person of a kind he sees every day. But he is the president. This is the first time you have been in the same room as a president.

“I forgot to turn in my phone.” Trump says and puts it to the others, lays it right on top of yours, and your heart skips another beat. Fear is bordering on panic now. You don’t understand how Cagla can remain so calm and unfazed, just continuing to count as if nothing happened. As if the fucking president isn’t standing right next to her, in arm’s reach. Not several feet away, not even one foot away.

You suddenly remember the feeling of expecting him to do something outrageous, when Cagla had her back turned on him, like she has now. The hair on your arms stands up at once and you’re pushed over yet another border, but it’s not panic. It’s an instinct from deep inside of you yelling at you to protect her. Protect her from Trump and his six feet three of bigotry, arrogance and asshole-ish-ness. It doesn’t matter you’re still almost a foot shorter than Trump, it doesn’t matter that he’s the fucking president, it doesn’t matter that you’re scared. Automatically, you take a step towards him, trying to stare him down.

He furrows his brows. “…and you are?” He asks.

You swallow hard yet again. Telling him your name is probably a bad idea. “A witness.” You say at last, voice trembling, almost stumbling over your words.

Trump nods uninterested. “Sure.” He says, not hiding his confusion. “You two wanna be left alone? And here I thought there’s still a room you can get.” He smiles, then turns around and leaves the Main Area again.

A lot of tension leaves your body at once and you tremble, gripping the platform for support. You briefly look up to Cagla, who’s still counting, as it seems. You breathe in and out a few times, trying to get over the feeling of surrealism. It’s not working very well.

“Nine-hundred ninety-seven.” Cagla says and interrupts your thoughts.

You jump at her words. “Huh?”

“The phones are all here.” Cagla explains, a soft smile on her face. “That means the cruise can begin.”

“With Trump on board.” You say absent-mindedly.

“With Trump on board.” Cagla repeats. She sounds mildly exhausted.

You look at each other for a few seconds before it’s getting awkward.

“I believe you have a mandatory class to take on how to act in case of an emergency.” Cagla says finally.

You blink. You completely forgot that. “Sure, yes, I guess so.” Something is stopping you from going. “Cagla.” You say, sure you are pronouncing it wrong. “Is this actually happening?”

Cagla sighs. “I’m afraid so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the last chapter of the story I have finished. So the third chapter will come in like a year or something.


End file.
